Hurt
by Pollux Devia
Summary: Songfic. A post-war Snape deals the emotional fallout of having been a spy and at the same time is faced with an amorous Harry Potter. Things come to a head when our favorite plot device Dumbledore decides to have a Karaoke party. AU after book 5.


Hurt

Professor Severus Snape, potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin First Class, former spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and ex Death Eater…was drunk. Not just drunk. He was pissed.

He had been in a dismal mood before and getting privately smashed on the sofa while broodingly staring into fire (something that, while drunk, wasn't at all cliché or pathetically maudlin) had not helped. Not that he really had had any hope that it would. No, he was far too pessimistic to hope for anything. Drinking was just conditioned response by now. He wanted relief from his miserable thoughts and this was what he had always turned to. When he could afford to anyway. Being a spy meant that lowering his mental and physical capacity was never good idea at any time. But every once in a while, usually right after a death eater meeting or a mission, he would risk it and drink himself into a stupor. He couldn't turn to potions. Potions that numbed the mind were addictive. And there was no potion for what he really wanted. When he was still a spy, he had wanted relief from the nightmare. Now he had it. And with it, even more time to think and to relive it all.

Nowadays he felt as if he would drown in his emotions. During the war they had been muted and dull, like background noise. At first he just naturally assumed it was part of his nature as a mature adult. He had always sneered at the over emotional idiots around him. He'd felt superior, unaffected. Or sometimes when he was in the depths of self hatred, he thought it must be an indicator of what a monster he was. He chuckled at that. It struck him as funny that now he considered it 'better days' when he had thought himself a callous monster. Because now his emotions swirled so violently inside of him that he didn't know what he was feeling. He never knew what he was feeling anymore, only that it was too much. He had repressed his emotions since the brink of adulthood as a function of necessity, but the end of the war and his apparent release from servitude had opened the flood gates. He was no longer needed for the 'greater good' so he was free to feel and reflect and slow descend into insanity. And when it was too much he wanted to drink. He wanted to forget. What he wanted most of all was to be free from everything; what he'd seen, what he'd done, what he was. He'd love to forget, so be someone else, or to simply not _be_ at all. But at the same time he knew he would never allow himself any of that. He knew he didn't deserve relief. Sometimes he just couldn't take it though. So he tried to at least blur the memories for a while. Take them out of the sharp detail they were in normally. He wasn't sure what was worse, the whirlpool of emotion or the absolute lack of feeling that had sometimes overcome himduring his spying days.

After the war had ended, suddenly there was all this extra time on his hands. Time that he used to spend thinking about the war and the part he had to play in it; trying to stay alive or keep the plans of the order from going down in flames. He had gotten used to having a purpose, some objective or task to focus on. Now there was nothing external to focus on, nothing to distract him, to keep him from registering what _he_ thought and what _he _felt.

Naturally, he had tried to fill up that time. He became a workaholic. He applied himself to making his potions and became more and more of a recluse to his colleagues.

It hadn't helped.

"Damn them. Why can't I be left in peace," he groused to himself. He was sick of their officious prying. He had come back from his last class of the day to find letters on his desk from _them._ He had violently picked them up and read them. The first was from Potter. 'The brat will not leave me be!' he thought.

He had taken fancy to Severus. He could only imagine what the boy's reasons were. He had been duly shocked that the most eligible bachelor of the wizarding world would set his sights on him. Yes, him of all people. The knight in tarnished armor. The necessary evil that everyone wanted to forget about. He still wasn't sure he believed it, even now after months of the boy hounding him.

He did eventually accept that Gryffindor at least _thought_ he had feelings for Severus. He no longer suspected that Potter was having him on. After weeks of making a nuisance of himself and making Snape's suspicion levels rise, the moron had made a pass at him. And of course Severus assumed that it was some sort of joke or bet. He had been incensed, enraged that he was forced to endure more ridicule at the hands of the next generation of Potter, and bitter that his fate was to always be the play thing of powerful wizards.

He still believed that the only thing that had kept the whelp from severe harm was his possession of other worldly good luck. The Harry bloody Potter good luck that got him through every situation as if he bathed in Felix Felicis every damn morning!

So the boy had made it out of his office intact and had been able to convince Severus that he was sincere. _That_ had certainly brought on a new wave of dreaded emotion that he wasn't equipped to deal with. It had taken him quite some time to sort out his feelings about Potter's interest. He was angry that someone was intruding into his life. Wary that Potter was simply going through some sort of mental breakdown. Bitter that it seemed the only people interested in him were some level of insane. Bitter that he was too old and used and repulsive to ever consider a relationship possible. Afraid that Potter would eventually comprehend his inherent malicious nature. Afraid that he would care when Potter was repulsed.

He knew that there were plenty of reasons why Potter's feelings couldn't be real. They were probably misplaced. There were any number of reasons why the boy could be drawn to him other than actual affection. He could feel grateful for all the times Snape had saved his life. Or maybe he appreciated that Snape didn't treat him as some sort of demi-god.

Maybe the boy was simply masochistic.

The spy had learned a great deal about him after he had graduated. They spent nearly two years of working together in the Order and he had come to accept that Harry Potter was nothing like his father. Still, he had never communicated this change of view to Potter in any way.

He made it crystal clear to the brat that he wanted nothing to do with his delusions of romance. But still, the hounding persisted. Potter was doing everything he could imagine to convince Severus that his feelings were genuine and that Snape should give him a chance.

The boy was living in the castle. It had been almost a year now. And for most of that he had been putting all his efforts into winning the potions master over. He had found out that it had taken Potter a month or so to get up the nerve – that had given him a moment of malevolent pleasure. Still Snape endured his constant presence. Unfortunately, he knew his manner towards Potter was softening. Despite his resistance to the blundering advances, one could say that the two had become friends. Potter endured Snape's harsh tongue easily now, and the potion master allowed him to loiter in his presence far more often than he knew was prudent. The boy came up with all sorts of excuses to visit Snape. At least he used to. Now he never gave a reason for why he came to bother the professor.

Snape knew he shouldn't keep letting him get away with it. It only served to encourage him. But Snape enjoyed the boy's company despite himself. It didn't help that he had given in to the Gryffindor's more physical tactics. The boy was a man now. One that he had come to respect and was attracted to. He would never admit it. Ever. But the boy, man, had kissed him. He had been so stunned that he reacted on instinct. He had kissed back. As much as he tried to suppress his own needs, the brash action had unleashed his craving for human contact. He had lost control like a silly attention starved child. The kiss had lasted less than a minute. Severus eventually regained control of himself and kicked Potter out of his office. Violently. Not violently enough considering the demon hadn't stopped his harassment. Still, it had left him reeling and confused. It started the swirl of emotions again. He didn't know what to do about Potter.

Only in a drunken state did Severus ever consciously admit to himself that he could return Harry's feelings. It was also the only time when he faced up to the fact that his former student would never get the hint and move on without a push in the right direction. Severus couldn't let him keep wasting his life on an old ex death eater. It was during one of those binges that the potions master finally decided to act; to tell the boy in no uncertain terms that he wanted him out of his life and if he never saw him again it would be too soon. Just thinking it made Severus go numb inside. _Why should I care!_ The whole damn thing was lunacy. He hadn't felt this out of control in over a year, back during the darkest times of the war. Near the end, Voldemort had become more and more violent as his impatience with the sluggish progress of the war grew. Every summoning had meant sure torture. The Dark Lord especially had liked to take out his restlessness on Snape. The spy didn't know why the lunatic hadn't just gotten it over with and killed him. He hadn't minded the torture so much. What was far worse was the horrific acts he had been forced to perform. Every time he felt the burn in his left arm, his stomach would drop as he wondered if he would have to rape someone, or listen to another person scream in agony. He told himself that it was better that he do it than the others, but he still felt he needed to be punished. The pain he endured under Voldemort's wand was punishment for becoming a Death Eater in the first place, so he deserved more. He had started cutting himself. And sometimes he had felt as if those moments were the only real ones and the rest of his existence was just a nightmare.

That particular activity had ended with the war.

But sitting there, thinking about what he had to do, who he had to give up, had made him fall back into old habits. And as the blood had solidified on his skin so had his determination to do the right thing and make Harry see his error in pursuing Snape.

He hated seeing how hurt Potter had been after he'd gone through with it. The pain on his face had twisted his gut. Severus didn't remember what he had said, it was all a blur – one that his mind would replay in focus later, he was sure. But he knew that it had been cruel. Even for him. 'Just like the old days,' he had though. But Snape knew it was for the best. What would happen if he let this folly continue? Should he let Potter become even more attached? Eventually he would rip the boy's heart out. It would happen whether he wanted it to or not. I was simply his nature. And what then? No, Harry needed to get on with his life. Severus wasn't any good for him. He deserved someone without emotional handicaps, someone who had more to offer. He hoped he had done the right thing for once.

That had been two weeks ago. He had avoided the man ever since. It hadn't been hard. He suspected Potter had been avoiding him as well. But then he had arrived at his office to find those two damnable letters. The one from Harry had been shocking. Apparently the boy had indeed been avoiding him for the last two weeks. In the letter he admitted that Severus had hurt him badly. But the stubborn idiot had seen through his ruse. "You wouldn't have put so much effort into being so precisely cruel if I meant nothing to you," he had written. So he believed that the professor hadn't really wanted him to go and that he would help Severus work past whatever problems he had. Absolutely fan-bloody-tastic. He was astonished by Potter's tenacity. He blamed it on that manipulative old codger. He was almost certain the headmaster was encouraging his former student. He probably had convinced Potter that he should keep bothering the potions master. It was either that or plain Gryffindor bullheadedness that made Potter keep trying after what he'd done to him. Or maybe the hell spawn truly was masochistic.

The second letter was from the previously mentioned old codger informing him of the particulars of the upcoming event. It was an informal kind of celebration of Voldemort's defeat. Those invited included Order members, Hogwarts staff and others who had contributed to the war effort. Snape, of course, was required to attend. That would have been bad enough, but the bastard just had to put a bit of flair into the occasion. The letter informed the potions master that the party would involve something called karaoke. He couldn't believe this! He was being forced to do something as undignified as sing in front a room full of people he didn't particularly care for and who undoubtedly cared just as much for him. How could the old man do this to him. After all the humiliation he'd endured in front of the Death Eaters, he was being forced to demean himself in front of yet another on looking crowd. All he wanted was to stay in his dungeon and let the rest of the world forget he was anything other than a scary potions master. This was the last straw!

And so there he was, getting privately pissed in his quarters. He was slowly resigning himself to the fact that there was probably nothing he could do to deter Potter. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't possibly give in. He didn't know how to be with someone. There were so many things that could go wrong. He was scared. Terrified. He knew how pathetic it was; that at his age he still hadn't had any real experience with such things. He'd gotten too used to being alone. He couldn't deal with this, or the moronic party to come. His thoughts turned to the headmaster again. This was all his fault. Right then he hated Dumbledore as much as he had hated Sirius Black or James Potter. Yet another in a long list of wizards who have taken pleasure in humiliating him. He wanted to get back at the old man. "I'll make you regret it…" he mumbled as he stumbled to his bed and passed out.

The next day found Snape less angry than the night before. He forgot about his plans of revenge against the Headmaster. Potter finally showed himself again at breakfast. He was predictably nervous but determined. He seemed eager to repair any rifts that may have formed between himself and older man in the last two weeks. Snape allowed it, knowing there was nothing he could do.

The boy sat down and fidgeted silently for a few minutes. "How are your classes going," he finally said. Snape's eyebrows rose. Harry flushed before the look of scorn could fully settle on Snapes face.

"Why don't you just talk about the weather while you're at it. Or maybe you'd like to remind me some more about my job babysitting sniveling toddlers?" He might have resigned himself to his presence, but that didn't mean he had to treat the brat as anything more than was he was, one step up from a bloody ape.

"Have you been informed of the upcoming travesty that everyone else deems a celebration?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't be so over dramatic. It's a party. It might even be fun."

"The world must be overrun by Gryphindors if everyone thinks that public humiliation and horrific singing is 'fun'. I understand why the Dark Lord wanted to take over." Potter snorted into his pumpkin juice at that. It was one of the things Snape appreciated about him. While most thought his humor about the war and Voldemort was unsettling, Potter found it quite amusing; sometimes he even joined in. Snape mused that it must have something to do with the level of proximity to the Bastard Who Was Finally In Hell.

Potter must have taken his flippant remark as a good sign because he continued the conversation easily without a trace of his previous nervousness. He was asking him if he knew any muggle music. Apparently he was talking about music with lyrics so his knowledge of the classical genre 'didn't count'. "Why are you rambling about muggle music?" he finally said.

"The party?" Snape blinked. "We have to sing karaoke?" Snape narrowed his eyes."It has to be muggle music," Harry said finally. Snape turned and glared at Dumbledore. Every day he was more and more sure that the headmaster was going to be sharing a corner in hell with Voldemort when he finally keeled over. The old man was his own personal terrorist. Of course the potions master knew nothing of contemporary muggle music.

Potter had graciously offered to let Snape borrow his 'see dees'. So for the next few days he had been in his magic free laboratory (the only place he and Potter had been able to get the 'CD player' to work) listening to the albums while he worked on preparing certain potions ingredients that didn't react well with most magic . He didn't listen to all of them indiscriminately. First he would read the lyrics and pick out the songs that weren't completely ridiculous. After about 3 days (for he could only handle so much of the rubbish in one day) he came across a song that caught his attention. He put the CD in the player and listened to it. It appealed to him. It even provided a way of getting back at the Headmaster for putting him through this. And it would also allow him to tell Potter at least some of what he was feeling.

After finding it, Snape had to mull over the pros and cons of performing such a song in front of a group of people. While it would certainly wrong foot all of them, it would also expose much more of Severus than he wanted to. He detested putting himself in such a vulnerable position. Singing was humiliating no matter what he sung. He might as well make the rest of them suffer a little bit. Once again he thought of how this was all Dumbledore's fault.

After a few days his vengeful streak decided he would do it. He had plenty of time before the party. During that time he readied himself as best he could. He would pull this off. And just like every other miserable task he'd been forced to do over the years, we would do it _well_. No matter how difficult or painful it may be.

Snape was nervous. He knew he couldn't back out now. He was required to sing and he hadn't learned any other song. Still, his song choice was starting to seemmore and more foolish every minute. He wasn't worried about how good he'd sound. He knew he had a decent baritone voice. But he was agitated none the less.

He looked around the Great Hall. There were quite a few people here. The area normally meant for the teachers table was converted into a makeshift stage for the singers. Snape supposed he was lucky. The order in which everyone was to embarrass themselves was completely voluntary. Snape would refuse to take the stage until he was the last person left. That way, when he was done with his 'number', he could leave the fiasco without the Headmaster having any cause to stop him. Also, if the song produced the reaction he thought it would, the old man could not reprimand him for ruining the festivity.

Close to a third of the attendees had already done their bit in the circus. The Headmaster had somehow come up with a way to magically play the muggle music since the electricity they used would never work in the Great Hall. He even succeeded in removing the lyrics from the music. Currently Trelawney was on stage crooning some god awful love song. Snape hoped it would end soon. He looked over to Potter for the millionth time that night. He was afraid the boy would profess his undying love through some similar drivel. He held out hope that he knew him better than that to subject him to such a display. He wasn't worried about what people would think. Everyone already knew about the young man's intentions towards his former professor. However, Snape didn't find it romantic to have their 'relationship' to be paraded in front of everyone like some cheep romance novel.

Soon the boy who lived finally took his turn. Snape was granted his wish. The Gryffindor wasn't singing a full out love ballad like he had feared. He was singing a fairly serious song that seem to be describing the difficulties of being a hero. He didn't understand all of the lyrics. He assumed the word kryptonite had some meaning in the muggle world. The main line was 'it's not easy to be me'. It made Snape think of how much his opinion of the boy had changed over the years. Not too long ago he would have thought the boy was simply whining. Now he knew how tiring and frustrating Harry found being crucified by the press one day and practically worshiped by the masses the next. Snape was also surprised at the slightly bitter tone of the song. He had thought that Potter would want to please his fans with an up beat happy song. He watched as the boy nervously headed off the stage. Everyone clapped dutifully, although Snape could tell that the partygoers had been surprised by the piece. The next person volunteered.

As the festivities wore on, Snape's anxiety increased. As did his consumption of alcohol. He made sure not to drink too much. But he needed something to calm himself down. That and the off key singing was easier to tolerate while less than sober. He admitted that some of the performances weren't entirely dreadful. A few were quite amusing. Lupin had had the gall to sing a song called "Hungry Like the Wolf". The wizarding world had become much more tolerant of lycanthropy after the war. Especially since Lupin had managed to get the werewolves to side with the Order. Snape didn't see anyone who looked disapprovingof Lupin's choice of material. Another performance that had been entertaining was one of the Weasley twins strutting back and forth on stage to the song "I'm Too Sexy" as if he were the new Gilderoy Lockhart. Snape had grimace at that, even if it had been amusing.

He continued to keep to the edge of the crowd as he always did. Usually he would move around (a spy's habit; in order to keep apprised of everything going on in the room), but at the moment he felt like it was too close to pacing and he refused to seem nervous in public.

Eventually, when it came time for the next volunteer, no one else was offering themselves up. The headmaster appeared beside him.

"I believe it is your turn, Severus," he said with what he clearly thought was an encouraging smile.

'Keep smiling, you bastard.' Snape thought. The potions master nodded and headed toward the stage. His unease was mounting again, so he put himself in the same frame of mind as when he was about to have an audience with the Dark Lord. He forced himself to think only of the task at hand and not about what could go wrong.

He turned to face the crowd. As the music started, he cast his eyes downward. He kept a neutral expression on his face and began to sing.

I hurt myself today

_To see if I still feel_

_I focus on the pain_

_The only thing that's real_

He looked up at Dumbledore. He wanted to make sure that the old man knew that Snape meant this information for him. He doubted the fool knew about his old habit. He probably had no idea that the spy would come back from missions and feel so disconnected from the world that he would cause himself pain just to feel something that was honest and uncomplicated. A feeling that wasn't skewed so badly that it was beyond recognition.

The needle tears a hole

_The old familiar sting_

_Try to kill it all away_

_But I remember everything_

He did remember everything. He wanted the memories gone so badly**,** but at the same time he knew he couldn't let himself forget. Forgetting would be doing a disservice to all those people whose lives he'd ruined. He would always carry that with him. Snape looked away from the Headmaster.

What have I become

_My sweetest friend_

_Everyone I know goes away_

In the end

He'd never acknowledged Harry as a friend before now. He hoped the boy would see the admission for what it was. Snape was finally voicing his fears aloud to him. Giving him the reasons why he resisted so hard against the younger man's advances. He was so afraid of becoming attached to another person. People were such temporary and inconstant things. His father had left him and his mother before Severus had graduated from Hogwarts. He had joined the Death Eaters soon after that. They had accepted him, befriended him, and given him a place. His mother had died only a few years later. He was glad she never knew what her son became. And eventually the young Snape had learned just how bad of a choice he'd made. And just how easily his 'friends' would turn on him. He had been completely alone. Severus looked up at Harry.

And you could have it all

_My empire of dirt_

_I will let you down_

_I will make you hurt_

He was so also afraid of disappointing Harry. Snape had nothing to offer him. Harry would eventually get bored of putting up with the older man's cruel nature and face the fact that there was no hidden redeeming qualities about him. That was assuming Snape would ever be able to let the boy in enough to let him see that.

I wear this crown of thorns

_Upon my liars chair_

_Full of broken thoughts_

_I cannot repair_

The former Death Eater knew he was damaged goods. He had distroyed his own life and earned his position as the sacrificial spy. He had sacrificed his psyche for the side of light as penance for the atrocities he had committed. He would forever be known as the spy, the treacherous but useful tool that you should never really trust. He would never be anything else.

Beneath the stains of time

_The feelings disappear_

_You are someone else_

I am still right here

Severus didn't know how to love; never had. He didn't even know if he _could_ love. He knew he could still care, but love was something different. Love was what Harry deserved. He didn't know if he could ever change. He had seen Harry change so much in just the past few years. The boy was still young. Snape could only imagine how much more he would change. The potions master would be who he'd always been.

What have I become

_My sweetest friend_

_Everyone I know goes away_

_In the end_

_And you could have it all_

_My empire of dirt_

_I will let you down_

_I will make you hurt._

If I could start again

_A million miles away_

_I would keep myself_

_I would find……a way_

Snape finally focused his eyes a minute after he let his last note die. He made sure his face still held a neutral expression and looked up towards the crowd. The whole place seemed to be in a state of shock. 'Good,' he thought. His goal had been to make them as uncomfortable as he was. 'Let them wallow in the awkwardness of the situation.' He couldn't help a slight smirk. He may not have ruined the whole event, but he had definitely added a nice nauseating twist to the end.

He turned his gaze to Dumbledore. The old man looked somber as he looked back at his potions master. Snape sneered and looked away. Finally, he turned to Potter. The boy's eyes were bright. Snape was stunned. One thing he had learned about the Gryffindor was that he never cried. He'd been inside the boy's mind enough times that he would have come across such a memory. He wasn't good enough at occlumency to hide anything from Snape. So he knew Potter had ceased crying around the age of 5 or 6. The older man wondered what it meant that Harry was close to tears now. He supposed he would find out later. Preferably before he went out of his mind from anxiety.

Without further ado, Snape took his leave of the Great Hall and exited through the side door. He headed back down towards the dungeons, back where he could relax. He had a feeling he would be needing more alcohol.

He had intended on getting pissed. But soon after starting this mission he had realized that being raving drunk when Harry arrived – if Harry arrived – would be a bad idea. He needed to be coherent. He wanted to make things clear between them. He had taken a risk singing that song and had stepped out of his personal comfort zone to do it. He didn't want it all to befor not. He put away the bottle. He could at least do that for Harry.

So when the boy arrived, it was to find only a slightly intoxicated and extremely agitated potions master. When Snape heard the knock on the door he closed his eyes and took a calming breath before giving Harry permission to enter.

He walked through the door and came around the sofa slowly to where Severus was standing. The older man couldn't quite tell what emotions were playing on the young face. But it was clear from his body language that he was nervous.

"Was all that true? Did you mean it…did you mean me?" Harry said in a low voice.

Snape hesitated. Even now it was difficult for him to admit what he felt. But it wasn't as if he could deny it now. He nodded his head. He watched as the boy lowered his eyes and let out a held breath. Snape swallowed hard and waited for him to rein in his emotions. He saw the corners of Harry's lips turn up in a smile.

"You know, I didn't really believe it. I mean, I always hoped that you returned my feelings. Sometimes I was almost sure you did. But I never _truly_ believed it." His smile broadened as he looked up.

But still, Severus rebelled. He stepped forward. "No! Don't you see!" he hissed in Harry's ear. "This is insanity. This cannot end well. You'd be better off with ANYONE other than me. I'm not what you want!"

Harry frowned, put his hands on Severus' shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me, Severus. I know I'm an impulsive person. I rush headlong into things and that's what gets me into trouble. But I've had plenty of time to think this over. And I HAVE thought this through. I know _you _and I know what I want. No matter what you may think of yourself."

He changed tactics. "Besides, I can't change my feelings at will. Neither can you. And I think you know me well enough to know that I always HAVE to try."

"Even if it dooms you."

"When have I ever stopped to think about that? Please, Severus. It can't get much worse than being alone for the rest of your life."

'_Oh, yes it can. There are things so much worse, Harry. Like finding out you've devoted yourself to the wrong person. That years of your life have been lost to someone you despise.'_

This was it. Severus felt as if he were being offered the choice to step off a cliff. It made no sense that he wanted this so badly. He knew it was selfish. And that was why he was doomed. Because he never made the right decision. No matter how much he wished he were anything but a monster.

Harry grew worried when Snape didn't answer as he was lost in his own thoughts. "I don't mean to rush you," he said hurriedly. "We can take all the time you need. And I'm not trying to lock you into anything. I just…well if you…please, Severus…do you at least want to give this a try?" The last was said into Snape's chest.

"I meant it," he whispered. "Did you hear me, you brat? I give in. I can't resist you any longer."

Harry buried his head in Severus' neck and wrapped his arms around him. "Just you wait. It'll be wonderful, you'll see. You think I'm a stubborn brat now. I'll make this work! We'll clash and we'll fight, but you won't chase me away again."

Snape sighed. "Have it your way, you always do."

The happy green eyes looked up at him again. "Will you hex me if I try to kiss you again?"

"As if that would stop you."

And Harry took that as permission and kissed him softly.

Severus knew at once that this would be too hard to give up. He would never have the will power to end it until one or both of them were destroyed. This was too good. Achingly good. Bliss.

He looked down at Harry.

'_I knew I was going to hell anyway_.'


End file.
